


Decisive Moments

by alterocentrist



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Photographer, Alternate Universe - Politics, Comedy, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-17 05:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13069767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alterocentrist/pseuds/alterocentrist
Summary: Carmilla Karnstein's journey to becoming an A-list photographer is briefly interrupted when she is called to Silas to work on an old friend's mayoral campaign. Unfortunately, she finds her focus drifting on Laura Hollis, the opposing candidate's photographer.





	1. Chapter 1

The pictures were good, Carmilla had to admit. Of course, they were probably better in their full resolution, but Instagram’s compression didn’t detract from their quality. Because of the consistent editing, they had a distinct look and feel to them. It signalled an image, a style, a _brand_. That was intriguing.

Even as the undoubted star of the photographs, the candidate had an uncanny ability to look like “one of the people”. There she was, cheering on the local youth football team. And there she was again, handing a cup of coffee to an old woman in the retirement home. Her Instagram page was photo after photo of her looking so natural. So human.

It was just too bad that Carmilla wasn’t the one who took these photos. Nor was the subject her candidate.

Will emerged from the bathroom, where he had been making a phone call; privacy was scarce in quaint hotel rooms. “Mattie’s on her way,” he said. “She said I should let you get room service.”

Carmilla raised her eyes from Will’s iPad, on which she was viewing the photos. “Oh good,” she said. “I was beginning to think, with the way you just shoved _this_ ,” she tapped the iPad’s bezel with her finger, “in my face, you were just going to let me _starve_ until Mattie had finished with me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Carmilla.” Will rolled his eyes. He walked over to the desk to pick up the room service menu. “Shall I get you a platter of sandwiches and orange juice?”

“Sure, William, I’ll be ever so grateful,” Carmilla said.

“You better cut that attitude out before Mattie arrives,” Will said.

Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “Or what?” she asked. “You know she likes me better than you.”

Will scowled. “What are you, seven?”

“Hey, you’re the one who threatened to tattle on me to Mattie,” Carmilla said. She turned her attention back to the iPad. “You know these photos of Danny Lawrence? Do you have any idea who her photographer is?”

“Someone called Laura Hollis,” Will answered.

Carmilla didn’t even need to rack her brain. “Never heard of her.”

“I don’t think anybody has.”

* * *

Laura was running late. Punctuality was not her strong suit, and she hated this about herself. She blamed it on her provincial upbringing. It was difficult to be conscious of time when everyone else deemed it unnecessary, unless it had something to do with farming.

But as a fresh university graduate working two jobs, oftentimes in the same day, it became difficult to stay in control of time. As evident by how Laura only had ten minutes to get from her job at the coffee shop to her second job, as Danny Lawrence’s campaign photographer.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Perry!” she called out over her shoulder, as she ran out the door. She all but jumped into her car, and only then just made sure that she had all her gear with her, before she drove to across town to Danny’s latest public appearance.

On Wednesdays, the Catholic parish in Silas held a soup kitchen for the homeless and impoverished. It was held in the hall beside the church, and was a largely non-religious affair. There were some evenings that the parish would invite a social worker or a community health worker to come along. Occasionally, volunteer groups of students or sports teams helped out. It was the perfect kind of outreach event for Danny to get involved in.

The lighting situation in the hall was tricky, as if often was with places that had fluorescent tubes affixed to high ceilings. But with the right angles, camera settings, and the occasional use of flash, Laura made it work. She tried to be as unobtrusive as possible. She didn’t want to get in the way of anyone doing their job just to get a better shot. After all, this was not just a photo op for Danny. She was the kind of person who walked the talk. She actively contributed towards the society she wanted. That was why Laura agreed to be on her campaign team.

She took photos for about an hour and then said her goodbyes to Danny and the rest of her team. She got back in her car and imported the photos from her camera onto her tablet. She scrolled through them until she found the best shot of the evening—Danny sitting beside a scruffy man who looked to be in his forties, engaged in deep conversation.

Laura made a few adjustments to the photo and then uploaded it onto Danny’s Instagram.

It had over two hundred likes by the time Laura walked through her apartment door.

* * *

“I thought Danny Lawrence was a lesbian.” Will was looking at his iPad screen over the campaign manager’s shoulder. “But she managed to get chummy with the Catholics.”

“It’s an election, William. Candidates need to get chummy with everyone.” The Belmonde campaign manager was Lilita Morgan, who was the only person on the team over the age of forty-five, with the experience and the bank account to show for it. Lilita looked down at the photograph again. “It’s ridiculous, though, how much faster they are at getting these opportunities.”

Carmilla had seen the photo herself. It was almost too simple, but the devil was in the detail. The man in the photo looked like he hadn’t showered in a week, and his clothes were in a similarly unacceptable state. His unkempt hair and beard made him look old and exhausted. But there was something in the relaxed manner in which he held his fork over his plate, as his face was turned towards Danny Lawrence. It was a moment caught in mid-sentence. And Danny Lawrence, as usual, was portrayed in her saintly best, her expression and body language practically radiating compassion.

“Oh good, everyone’s here,” Lilita’s voice brought Carmilla back to the meeting room.

The last person to arrive was the candidate, Matska Belmonde, who was dressed as if she was already mayor, though Carmilla was aware that that was just actually her normal wardrobe. She sat down at the table and gave Lilita a nod.

Lilita looked out at the dozen or so people in the meeting room. Most of them had a place to sit, but the others were standing with their backs against the far wall. “All right, let’s begin,” she said. “Good morning everyone. Today we’re not going to do much but scheduling and making arrangements for Mattie’s public appearances. We have decided that this area of the campaign needs a serious revamp.” She glanced at Carmilla. “But before I give everyone their assignments, I want to introduce the newest member of our team: Carmilla Karnstein, who has joined us from Vienna to be the campaign photographer.”

Carmilla waved to the rest of the room, taking in their half-hearted applause.

Mattie cleared her throat. “Lilita, I don’t know if you spoke to Carmilla yet, but when we met yesterday, she had some interesting insights on our campaign,” she said.

“Oh no, I haven’t seen Carmilla since she walked into our headquarters in all her morning glory.” Lilita smiled sweetly at Carmilla. “Care to enlighten us, dear?”

Carmilla hated being put on the spot like this. She would have glared at Mattie, but she knew that was inappropriate because of the campaign staffers around them. Also, she was no longer seven years old. Instead, she looked straight at Lilita. “You know, I was confused when you asked me to come here, but it only took me an afternoon to realise that the Belmonde campaign doesn’t feel like it has a generous budget. And I know that you don’t work with anything but a generous budget, Lilita,” she said. “But I mean, look at Mattie’s Instagram account. They’re all smartphone photos. Pretty drab ones, too, no offence to the photographer.”

A plump teenager seated at the other end of the table squeaked, “None taken.”

“I’m guessing that Danny Lawrence has half the budget that you have and it seems like she’s spending it on a few good pairs of walking shoes,” Carmilla said. “If you look at her Instagram feed, she’s out there, she’s visible, she’s even going to the weird town events that nobody goes to. Like she announced her campaign before the Adonis Hunt at the university.”

“She _was_ a Summer when she studied there,” Will supplied.

Carmilla ignored him. “And it helps that her photographer is doing an excellent job.”

“Don’t you think that Mattie’s experience will eventually win out over Danny’s glorified social media campaign?” Will asked.

“I don’t know, her policies seem pretty solid to me.” Carmilla shrugged. “Look, Danny Lawrence is kicking your ass right now because she looks like she’s already mayor,” she said. “Mattie’s lagging behind because she looks like she’s just taking time off from selling antiques because she felt like taking a crack at running this town.”

A few staffers choked on their coffees.

“I import handmade furniture,” Mattie corrected.

Carmilla shot her a look that indicated that Mattie was just proving her point.

If Lilita was offended, she didn’t show it. She seemed far from it, in fact. She leaned back in her seat and stroked her chin thoughtfully. “My, my, little Carmilla,” she said. “It seemed like all those years in Paris and in Vienna made you a woman of the world.”

“It’s not that,” Carmilla said, feeling a bit vulnerable now. She turned the tables back on Lilita. “I know that you have all this money to make Mattie a more appealing candidate. Why aren’t you spending it?”

“We are _now_. That’s why you’re here, darling,” Lilita said. “You may want to stop referring to our campaign in the second person. You’re one of us now.”

“It starts today,” Will agreed. “No more smartphone photos, eh, Mattie?”

Carmilla hesitated to tell them that it was probably going to be much more complicated. But they already knew that, right?

* * *

Laura spent her entire Saturday morning around following Danny as she went doorknocking. On the whole, it went well, with Danny being warmly invited into several homes. She had conversations with them about what they cared the most about when it came to living in Silas. There was even an encounter with an adorable puppy. It was a productive morning, and the campaign team remained in good spirits despite the summer heat.

It was afternoon by the time Laura managed to stagger into her apartment. She made a beeline for the couch, and then immediately regretted collapsing on it, because now she had no energy to fetch herself a glass of juice. She groaned loudly.

“What’s your problem, Hollis?” It was her flatmate, Betty, who had just emerged from her bedroom, wearing her nurse’s scrubs. Betty was too smart for Silas, but the field she wanted to enter was so highly specialised that she decided it was a good idea to stay in town and establish herself in a place with less competition. Besides, nurses were always sought after outside the big city anyway. It was strange for Laura, being friends with someone who had _options_.

“I want juice but my legs died on me,” Laura said.

Betty was already halfway to the fridge. She poured Laura a glass and then placed it on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Don’t say I never gave you anything,” she said.

“Thanks, Bets. Doorknocking is not my favourite.” Laura downed half the glass in one go.

“Did you put sunscreen on this morning?” Betty asked.

“Sure did,” Laura said.

“Glad to know that you listen to me,” Betty said. She reached into the fridge for a container of food, which she placed in her bag. “I’m off to work now. I’ll be home just after midnight. Don’t let me catch you awake.”

“Damn, I wanted to binge watch _Doctor Who_ ,” Laura joked.

“Which one?”

“Nine,” Laura replied. “I’m a sucker for that accent.”

“Laura, you’ve seen that like, five times since we’ve been living together,” Betty said.

“I’m just kidding, Betty, jeez,” Laura said. “Nah, I’m definitely going to turn in early tonight. I just have to sort out and edit the photos from today. Maybe after an episode of something on Netflix.”

Betty rolled her eyes. “And some food, I hope,” she said.

“Of course,” Laura said. “You have a good evening at work.”

“Saturday nights in the emergency room are _always_ my favourite,” Betty said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hollis.”

When Betty left, Laura begrudgingly got up from the couch to fix herself a snack. She put on an episode of one of her favourite sitcoms on Netflix, and relaxed for an hour, not touching her phone, her camera or her tablet.

Eventually, she needed to upload something on Danny’s Instagram about the doorknocking. She decided on posting six photos, including one with the puppy. As soon as those went through, her phone lit up with a message from Mel, Danny’s campaign manager.

 _Thanks for the post_ , it read. _Btw, have you seen the latest on Belmonde’s Instagram? Might interest you_.

Laura went to Mattie’s Instagram. She didn’t visit it regularly, as the posts hadn’t really caught her eye. It had been clear that photography was not one of the main priorities of the Belmonde campaign’s marketing strategy. But the latest post was different. It was a shot of Mattie at Silas’s only Turkish restaurant, ordering at the counter. But unlike many of her previous photos, there was a big smile on her face, and more remarkably, a smile on the face of the person taking her order. Furthermore, the quality of the image suggested that it wasn’t taken by a smartphone.

Another message from Mel popped up on her phone: _Did you see it? You think Belmonde has finally got herself someone who knows how to use a camera?_

The Turkish restaurant, if Laura remembered correctly, had less than ideal lighting for someone who didn’t know their way around the exposure triangle. Whoever took the photo clearly had an understanding of how to take it successfully. And whoever took it also made Matska Belmonde seem more befitting of the “Mattie” nickname she kept insisting that people call her.

Indeed, it looked as if that the Belmonde campaign had hired a photographer. Laura typed her response to Mel: _I’d say it’s about time_.

* * *

Laura Hollis remained a mystery. Not because she was an enigma of any kind, but because she was new. And _new_ was the term to use here, not _young_ , because she was the same age as Carmilla. From Carmilla’s several Google searches of her, she discovered that Laura Hollis was a member of Silas University’s most recent graduating class, and that she studied journalism. It was on Laura Hollis’s personal Instagram that Carmilla figured out that she was from a farming town in Burgenland, where her family still lived. On Instagram was more of Laura’s photography, which indicated to Carmilla that she was quite fond of using a similar colour profile that she used on Danny Lawrence’s Instagram, and that she was not above taking smartphone snaps of her food and drinks.

There was also a Twitter account that looked like it had been set up for a university project but had remained unused since. But besides that, there wasn’t much else about Laura Hollis. Nothing that was useful to Carmilla anyway. Not even a photograph of the woman herself.

Her phone buzzed to alert her to an email from Lilita Morgan. It simply said: _Great work on the Instagram, Carmilla. I knew you would be an asset to our campaign_. Even though Lilita was probably nowhere near her hotel room, Carmilla resisted the urge to roll her eyes. That woman still had that effect on her.

She was surprised that the photos she took so far had been receiving a significant amount of engagement on Instagram. It still wasn’t as much as Danny Lawrence’s, but it was more than any of the previous photos. Admittedly, they were much better quality, though Carmilla believed there was still something missing.

Carmilla considered herself a skilled photographer, but political photography was not something she tried. Photographers who shadowed politicians often had a close relationship with them. That trust, that intimacy… It was what made the best political photography stand the test of time. But Carmilla had never been good at relationships like that. And for the record, Mattie wasn’t one for them either.

Carmilla decided she needed to get into Laura Hollis’s head. She got this way about the photographers she wanted to emulate. She consumed their work obsessively. The only issue was that Laura Hollis didn’t exactly have an extensive body of work. The next best thing was to basically stalk her.

Using Danny Lawrence’s Twitter feed, she worked out the candidate’s latest public appearance, where she was sure Laura would be present. She showed up ten minutes before the event concluded, and waited around until most of the campaign team had drifted away. That was when she spotted a young woman tucking a DSLR camera away into a bag, and then looking around, before walking to a nearby bakery by herself.

Carmilla waited five minutes, wondering if the woman would come out of the bakery, but she realised she was probably sitting and eating in there. And so Carmilla went inside.

There she was, sitting on one of the stools by the benchtop fixed to the wall at the back corner of the bakery, helping herself to a sandwich. There was a bottle of water and a pastry in front of her, too.

Carmilla ordered a pastry and water and then approached the woman. She placed her hand on the empty stool beside her. “Mind if I sit here?” she asked.

The woman regarded her, and for a second Carmilla thought she saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes. Finally, she said, “Uh, sure, go ahead.”

Carmilla had a couple of bites of her pastry and washed it down with some water before turning to the woman. “Hey, you’re Danny Lawrence’s photographer, right?” she asked.

The woman seemed to clutch her bag closer to her body. “Uh, yes I am,” she said. “Were you at her event just then?”

Carmilla nodded. Little white lies. “She’s got some big ideas, hasn’t she? Do you really believe that she’s going to achieve those?” She knew that Laura Hollis was probably accustomed to these kinds of questions from people, and was well-practised at deflecting them, but Carmilla wanted to test her anyway.

Laura shrugged. “I think voters like Danny because she’s fresh. Yeah, her ideas may be a little bit out there, but I think people want to hear that, after so long,” she said. “She’s the face of a new Silas.”

“Don’t you think she’s a little too young?” Carmilla prodded. “Silas isn’t _that_ desperate for progress.”

“I’m pretty sure Matska Belmonde isn’t even thirty-five, which makes her young, too. And they’re the only two candidates,” Laura said. “So, either way, Silas is looking to break tradition this election.”

“Matska Belmonde seems like an uptight bitch,” Carmilla said. “What about Danny Lawrence, though? She comes off like an absolute saint. Is that just a front or is that really who she is?” What she was doing now was risky, but so far, this Laura Hollis appeared to be nothing more than a hack. With a talent for photography. How unfortunate. Carmilla wanted something _real_ from her.

As if on cue, Laura’s eyes _flashed_. “Look, I’ve been trying to play along, Carmilla Karnstein, but you’ve started a nasty game here,” she snapped. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do but it’s messed up.”

Carmilla was caught off-guard. She tried to speak but nothing was coming out.

“You think I didn’t recognise you from the moment you walked in?” Laura demanded. Her voice lowered to a semi-threatening attempt at a growl. “We make it a point to know our opposition. And we make it a point to know when our opposition just threw their money at some hotshot fashion photographer from Vienna, thinking that would help them win.”

There it was. Laura Hollis had fire in her all along. Carmilla knew it was inappropriate, but she took pleasure in this. It would be cosmically unfair if Danny Lawrence’s staffers looked as squeaky clean as she was. “You’re causing a scene, you know?” she said, calm and deliberate, knowing exactly what Laura’s reaction would be.

Laura’s face contorted in irritation. “Oh, screw off,” she said. And then, her eyes darted around to see if anyone was actually watching them. She looked back at Carmilla, her jaw tense. “What are you even trying to achieve here?”

“I just wanted to meet Danny Lawrence’s photographer, that’s all,” Carmilla said. “You know, getting to know the opposition.”

“Well, now you know me,” Laura said. “Can you leave?”

“You wouldn’t let me finish my pastry?” Carmilla asked.

“The only reason you have that pastry is because you followed me in here,” Laura said.

Carmilla smirked. “Fine,” she said. She picked up the pastry with a serviette. “I will leave you alone to enjoy your food. I’ll see you around, Laura Hollis.” But before she left, she couldn’t resist having a better last word. “To be honest, I’m a little disappointed that you turned out to be just a party hack.”

She was halfway out the door as Laura sputtered out a reply she didn’t bother to listen to.

* * *

“I am _so_ sorry! I lost my cool and I shouldn’t have, and now Carmilla Karnstein is probably having a laugh about it with the rest of the Belmonde campaign team.” Laura screwed up. She was aware that she had a temper, and so far, she had done a good job of keeping it in check, but what Carmilla Karnstein did was a low blow.

Danny pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re sure nobody saw, right?” she asked. And then she tensed up, her eyes wide. “Oh god, what if she had a recording device on her?”

“Settle down, both of you,” Mel said. She was slouched in her chair, looking unfazed about the whole thing. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean?” Danny demanded. “This could reflect very badly on us, you know.”

“Well, you should have thought about that before you hired this little spitfire here,” Mel said. She looked at Laura and shrugged. “I mean, Hollis, you know I like you, but we both know that I think your temperament isn’t exactly ideal.”

Laura felt her face flushing. “I’m not gonna disagree,” she muttered.

“As I said, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Mel said. “Right now, there’s no alternative to Danny, really, in terms of personality. Belmonde’s campaign hasn’t really been like, ‘Hey, _this_ could be your mayor!’ So even if they do something to damage Danny’s character, the voters don’t really have anything to go by on what makes Belmonde a better person than Danny. They don’t know her. Not like they’ve gotten to know Danny.”

Laura looked over at Danny, who still seemed unconvinced.

“What if you’re wrong?” Danny asked Mel.

Mel laughed. “Would you have chosen me to be your campaign manager if I didn’t have such a good track record of being right?”

“It was between you and Elsie. I wasn’t exactly spoilt for choice.”

“I can’t believe you forgot that Kirsch was in the running, too,” Mel gasped.

“Well, he’s stuck around, so I could always promote him and demote you, if that’s what’ll make you happy,” Danny retorted.

Laura was confused at the direction the conversation had taken. “Hey, does this mean I’m forgiven?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine, Hollis,” Mel said, and though her manner was so casual, Laura knew that she meant it. “But, I gotta ask, was Carmilla Karnstein really that bad?”

“We only had a short conversation, so I can’t make a fair judgement, but you know, she was actively trying to cause trouble.” As soon as Carmilla had sat next to Laura, her fight-or-flight instincts activated, which probably coloured her impressions of Carmilla. And obviously, she chose to fight.

“What do you think, Mel?” Danny asked. “Do you think Lilita Morgan sent her there or was she acting alone?”

“Why would she be acting alone, though?” Laura asked. It didn’t make sense to her, why the opposition’s photographer would follow her into a bakery and attempt to rile her up just for the hell of it.

“Perhaps she’s got a reputation for being eccentric,” Mel suggested. “Has anyone looked into that?”

“Eccentric. Funny way of showing it,” Laura huffed.

Mel gave her a look. “That’s kinda the _point_ of being eccentric, Laura.”

* * *

Mattie’s expression was a mixture of indignation, shock, and confusion. Carmilla had known Mattie her whole life, but she had never seen this particular combination of emotions from her. Then again, this was probably Mattie’s first experience of a childhood friend unwittingly sabotaging her mayoral campaign.

Strike one against Carmilla. She honestly thought Will would’ve done it first.

“I’m sorry, you did _what_?”

Carmilla shook her head. “Please don’t make me repeat myself,” she said. Recounting the story the first time was embarrassing enough.

“You’re right. You should save your voice for apologies,” Mattie said. “God, I can’t believe you, Carm! I don’t even want to discuss _following_ Laura Hollis. It’s -” she sighed heavily, “What on earth _possessed_ you to think that it was a good idea to strike up a conversation with her without telling her who you were?”

“I just wanted to get to know her,” Carmilla said.

“By getting her to talk shit about her candidate?”

Carmilla folded her arms. “You know I’m no good at the talking to people thing.”

“Carmilla, you are twenty-three years old.” Mattie sighed again. “This whole prickly vibe of yours was a little cute when you were seven, but you outgrew it at thirteen, all right?”

Carmilla didn’t reply. She just slumped further into her chair.

“If you wanted to know what she was like, maybe you should have just left a comment on her Instagram or something,” Mattie said. “Isn’t that what you photographers do?”

“Whatever. It’s not like Laura Hollis is a particularly sociable person. She’s uptight, confrontational - ”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Mattie interrupted. “Besides, I don’t think many people would choose to be sociable if they were ambushed like that.”

“I did _not_ ambush her!” Carmilla insisted. Although, she really did. “Look, Mattie, I’m trying to enjoy what I’m doing here with you, photographing your campaign and all, but I feel a little out of my depth. This is not my thing. This is not what I’m familiar with.”

“You’ve been doing good work, Carm,” Mattie said. “I know it’s not with some Slavic supermodel, but you’re doing good work.”

“It’s good work _technically_. But I just feel detached from it, you know?” Carmilla kept going back to the school of thought that political photography was supposed to be intimate. Her photos of Mattie so far still didn’t feel that way, even if Mattie was her oldest friend in the world. It just felt like she was taking shots that she’d seen other photographers make with their respective subjects. Tributes. Copycats. They weren’t posed, but they might as well be.

Mattie frowned. “You’ve lost me there. You’re the photographer, not me,” she said. “What does this have to do with Laura Hollis?”

“It’s complicated. Can we just forget about it?” Carmilla’s justification for following Laura was even harder to explain to Mattie. She thought that if she could get a sense of how Laura’s brain worked, of how Laura saw Danny Lawrence, then she could figure out how she could get her photos of Mattie to work the same way. That was how she learned best, a method she picked up from when she assisted photographers back in Paris.

“Fine, and I won’t tell Lilita either,” Mattie said. “Because you know she’ll wring out every single last apology out of you. And it’s unbecoming, really, the thought of watching you grovel.”

“Thank you,” Carmilla said. “I owe you one.”

“You can pay me back by sorting yourself out,” Mattie said. “Preferably without getting slapped with a restraining order. Or worse, jeopardising my chances at this election.”

* * *

Political photography was essentially propaganda. Laura understood that much. There was nothing journalistic about it. It was about putting your subject in the best light—both technically _and_ historically. That being said, people weren’t stupid. In general, they had a good sense of what was authentic and what was staged. And especially in the Internet age, they had further avenues to help verify their opinion of public figures.

Carmilla Karnstein’s photographs of Matska Belmonde, however, had Laura stumped. And if Laura was stumped, there was a chance that the voters were as well. The photos were a huge improvement from what was the standard fare on Mattie’s Instagram feed. The composition and lighting were flawless. Mattie’s hair and wardrobe were flawless. But there was something still lacking.

“I guess that’s what happens when your photographer shoots for _Vanity Fair_ ,” Laura said under her breath, as she finally closed the tab on Mattie’s Instagram. There was a great deal of money behind the Belmonde campaign, which should have put them at an advantage, but what Laura learned was that the rich didn’t have a clue on how to deal with common folk.

“Laura.” Danny was standing at her doorway. “You busy?”

“I was just about to look through the photos from the policy meeting.” Laura wasn’t limited to photographing Danny’s public appearances, but she also made it a point to take shots of the inner workings of the campaign. Danny held one of her policy review meetings today with her team, and Laura was in the room with them. Most of the shots would be unusable, but they would be archived anyway.

“Mind if we chat for a bit?” Danny asked.

“Not at all.” Laura gestured to the empty seat next to her.

Danny sat down. “We’ve both been so busy with the campaign, I feel like it’s been ages since we actually caught up as friends,” she said. “How are you doing?”

“Good, you know,” Laura shrugged, “working my butt off to make sure you win.”

“That makes two of us,” Danny said. Normally, she exuded an energetic confidence, but at this particular moment, she looked meek and exhausted. She looked like the young woman that she actually was. “I don’t actually remember the last time I binged-watched a show on Netflix, just working my way through a box of microwave popcorn.”

Laura chuckled. “Maybe that wasn’t the healthiest of habits?”

“You know what I mean,” Danny said. “I can’t remember the last time I acted like a twenty-six-year-old.”

“You’re just an overachiever, that’s all,” Laura said. “The rest of the people your age, they’re like, going to music festivals and having keg parties and wondering when they’re finally gonna land those full-time jobs that were implicitly promised to them when they graduated university.”

“Oh, so you mean like Kirsch?” Danny joked.

“Oh, don’t be mean. He’s done so much for the campaign,” Laura said.

“I know. I’ve got a soft spot for that knucklehead, and I can tell Mel does, too,” Danny said. “You’re still working at Perry’s, right?”

Laura nodded. “It could be worse. At least it’s not the supermarket,” she said.

“You know, I always thought you were dying to get out of Silas,” Danny said. “I thought, like, the day you graduated, that’ll be the same day that you’ll be getting on a train and getting the hell out of here.”

Laura thought about it. It was true that she was dying to see the rest of the world. Hell, she had never even been to Vienna. She itched at the thought of being in new places, walking on unfamiliar streets, talking to strangers… “Well, that was the plan,” she said to Danny. “But my friend announced that she was going to run for mayor and I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t help her out the best way I can.”

Danny smiled. “You’re a rock star, Hollis,” she said.

“I know.”

Later on, when Danny had to answer an urgent phone call, Laura chose the photo that she was going to post on Instagram. It was a photo of Danny smiling as Kirsch, who was kneeling beside her chair, was saying something to her. Laura remembered taking this during an otherwise serious point in the meeting, but Kirsch had come in with a silly joke about commissioning a radio jingle, which provided a much-needed bit of comic relief.

It may not cut it for _Vanity Fair_ , but it was what Laura did best.

* * *

Mattie, Carmilla, and a couple of campaign staffers were at the Saturday markets. The height of summer had arrived, and the sun was bearing down on Silas, casting a harsh glow over the market. It was a terrible time of the day to take photographs, but Carmilla reminded herself that she wasn’t shooting for a magazine. She had to capture Mattie in real moments, and what could be more real than a sticky summer’s day?

Carmilla followed Mattie as she shook hands with some vendors. She pushed back the wide-brimmed sunhat on her head and raised her camera to her face. Instinctively, she made the necessary adjustments and took a few shots in a matter of seconds. Something else caught her attention when she lowered her camera.

A few metres away from where Carmilla and Mattie stood, a tall, redheaded woman was talking to a bunch of people gathered around her. Just a few steps beside her was a much shorter woman, her face hidden behind a camera, and her ponytail hanging out of her baseball cap.

“All right, darling, don’t embarrass me now.” Mattie had come up beside her. She was smiling slyly as she watched Danny Lawrence work the small crowd building in front of her. “Is that really her photographer? I do wonder how she could manage to get decent angles… There’s a bit of a height disparity there.”

“A bit?” Carmilla smirked. “She needs to be on one of those wheeled ladders.”

“Her pictures always look so nice, though,” Mattie said.

“It helps that her candidate is Clifford the Big Red Dog,” Carmilla muttered. It was almost befuddling, how beloved Danny was. She wasn’t a Silas native, for one. Hell, she wasn’t even from Styria. And she insisted on being called _Danny_ , like some American surfer dude. It was also weird how a redhead who stood over six feet tall had a way of looking like she belonged in most situations.

Mattie snorted, but she said, “Be nice, Carm,” she said. “Should we go say hello?”

“Do we really have to?” Carmilla asked.

Mattie took her by the arm. “Come on, don’t be a baby.” She led her over right to where Danny and Laura were standing. The people Danny had just been talking to had just dissipated. “Hello there!” Mattie greeted them brightly. “How are you guys doing?”

Danny was friendly in her response, and soon her and Mattie were engaged in small talk, but Carmilla noticed that Laura hung back. She just stood there, a couple of steps off to the side, fiddling with the manual focus ring on her camera lens. Inconsequential, since she most likely used autofocus anyway.

Carmilla sidled up next to her. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” Laura responded stiffly.

“We really gotta stop meeting like this,” Carmilla said.

Laura looked at her from under the brim of her baseball cap. “Never pegged you for someone who would use cheap movie lines,” she said.

“I’m just trying to make conversation here, cupcake,” Carmilla said.

Laura frowned at the nickname. And then she shrugged. “I guess I should just be grateful that it’s cheap movie lines and not misleading questions,” she said.

Carmilla held a hand to her heart. “You wound me.”

“Jeez.” Laura’s frown deepened. “I was just making a comment. I wasn’t trying to wound you or whatever.”

Carmilla couldn’t bring herself to believe that Laura would be so _humourless_. “Hey, what’s up with you? Dehydration? Heatstroke?” she asked. “Or is your candidate siphoning off your sense of humour?” She nodded over to where Danny was laughing at something that Mattie said.

Laura didn’t reply. Instead, she walked away from Carmilla, brought the camera to her face, and snapped a photo of Danny and Mattie talking.

* * *

It seemed as if the universe was conspiring against Laura. Worse, it was conspiring against the Lawrence campaign. The latest polling showed that Mattie was closing the gap between her and Danny. The Belmonde campaign appeared to have undergone a refresh. Mattie had announced a couple of major programmes, including an adult education programme for new migrants. This was something that the Lawrence campaign hadn’t even thought of. Beyond that, there was an increase in not just public appearances, but also public gatherings, where people were invited to share their thoughts on Silas’s future.

There were also two gorgeous photos that popped up on the Instagram feed: Mattie, sitting on the floor at the local library, surrounded by toddlers who had come in with their parents for the summer music programme. Two of them had managed to clamber on top of her while she laughed helplessly. The other photo was Mattie feeding a kitten from a bottle at the animal shelter.

You want to change people’s minds about you? Take photos with babies and baby animals. Granted, that didn’t work for Donald Trump, but he was probably an exception.

Mel had admitted that they had gotten complacent. They didn’t expect Mattie to catch up. They underestimated her and her campaign team. Stress levels were high around the Lawrence campaign headquarters as they regrouped and worked out a response strategy.

On top of that, Laura was three hours into her six-hour shift at Perry’s when Mattie and her campaign team walked in. Including Carmilla Karnstein. She hurriedly finished wiping down the counter before rushing into the back. “Perry? Matska Belmonde is here,” she said.

Perry looked up from where she was mixing ingredients. “What do you mean, ‘Matska Belmonde is here’?”

“She’s here with her staff,” Laura said. “I think they might want something to eat.”

“Then go serve them, Laura!”

Laura really was not in the mood to see the look on Carmilla’s face. “I thought they might want to meet the owner.”

“I’ll be right out in a minute,” Perry said. “Can you just go and entertain them so I can finish this?” She gestured at the mixing bowl in front of her.

“Uh, sure,” Laura said. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the encounter. She stepped back outside and approached Mattie’s table, with the biggest smile on her face that she could manage. “Hi there,” she said, her cheerfulness falling flat. “How can I help you today?”

Mattie smiled up at her, and as soon as she recognised Laura, she froze. “Oh, hi,” she said. “We’ll have a melange each, and two lemon slices and two chocolate slices to share, please.” She glanced around the table, before adding, “And can we get some water?”

“Sure thing,” Laura said. She repeated their order, taking care to avoid catching Carmilla’s eye. It was frustrating, because Carmilla was _staring_. No one else at the table seemed to be paying much attention to Laura, though.

But just before she turned back to start on their orders, Mattie spoke again: “Wait,” she said. “Aren’t you Laura Hollis?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I knew you looked familiar,” Mattie said. “You work here?”

Laura nodded, but offered no explanation. The Belmonde campaign didn’t need to know that Danny’s campaign couldn’t afford to pay anyone a full-time salary, except for Mel, who was working at least sixty hour weeks at this point.

“Hmm.” Mattie looked around the place. “It’s nice here. Reminds me of the coffee houses in Vienna.” She addressed Carmilla. “Don’t you think?”

Carmilla grunted in assent.

“Anyway,” Mattie was talking to Laura again. “Thank you, we’re looking forward to our coffee and slices.”

Laura returned behind the counter to make the coffees. When they were ready, she sent out Perry to serve them. She managed one encounter without a snarky comment from Carmilla, and she wasn’t going to give her an opportunity to ruin that.

* * *

Mattie spending time in Carmilla’s hotel room at the end of the day became a regular occurrence. It was better than headquarters, since Lilita was always hovering around there and it was better than Mattie’s family’s mansion at the edge of town, because Carmilla hated being there. The two women usually spent hours having long, meandering conversations over a bottle of wine.

Carmilla had never consumed wine so regularly in her life. Not even when she lived in Paris.

“I don’t know why you’re so hung up on this, darling. Political campaigning has never been for anyone who wants job stability, you know that,” Mattie was saying.

Carmilla rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I’m not _hung up_ on it,” she insisted. “It’s just… The first time I met Laura she made a comment about how you like to throw money around.”

“It’s my money, why shouldn’t I spend it on making me mayor?” Mattie asked.

“I get that.” Carmilla sighed. She didn’t understand why this was weighing down on her so much. “What I don’t get is why Laura still wants to do this. She could probably just move somewhere else, get a full-time job there. She didn’t have to stick around for Danny Lawrence and still work at that coffee house.”

“Two reasons. One, she probably believes in Danny’s vision for Silas, and two, not everyone grew up with the money and the connections we had, Carm,” Mattie said. “And that’s just too bad for them, but most of them learn how to cope with it.”

Carmilla scowled. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

Mattie shrugged. “It’s the truth of the world,” she said. “Come on, cheer up. Most people, they find contentment somehow. They’re not missing out on anything.”

“I can’t believe I ever felt like shit for being forced to come here,” Carmilla said.

“Nonsense, I wouldn’t say you were forced,” Mattie said.

“Come on, Mattie,” Carmilla scoffed. “I was _guilt-tripped_ to come here. You know Lilita set up that Elle Sheridan shoot I did for _Vogue_ , just so my parents could shut up about how I should’ve followed you to Goethe University instead.” Before the Elle Sheridan shoot, Carmilla was nothing more than a blogger, living off checks from her parents and the occasional fee for photographing B-list models and C-list celebrities. “Lilita told me that this was my opportunity to give back, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“I’m aware,” Mattie said. “But what’s so bad about that?”

“Are you really asking me that question?” Carmilla asked.

Mattie laughed, though it was humourless. “This is the way people like us have always functioned, Carmilla. Nothing is a favour, everything is a debt. It’s a self-sustaining, exclusive economy designed so that all of us would just keep getting the best shot at life we possibly can,” she said. “If you don’t want to play the game, then you’re going to have hash it out with people like Danny Lawrence and Laura Hollis.”

Carmilla loved Mattie, she did. She was the older sister that Carmilla always wanted. She doted on Carmilla. But it always shocked her, the way Mattie could be cold and ruthless. The way Mattie could be so dismissive of other people. They grew up in the same world, but Carmilla had never been inclined to see it the way Mattie did. The way Lilita Morgan did. And most of the time, that made her feel like she was the one who was wrong.

“Mattie,” Carmilla’s voice was quiet, “why do you want to be mayor?”

Mattie answered so nonchalantly that it sent chills down Carmilla’s spine: “I studied at Goethe University, Carmilla,” she said. “Do you really think I was going to spend the rest of my life running my parents’ furniture business?”

And that was when Carmilla realised that it wasn’t just her fault why the photographs didn’t work.

* * *

Election day was drawing closer. This was Silas’s first twenty-first century election in terms of the young candidates, and the new types of campaigning that were introduced. The increase in social media engagement was so remarkable that the mayoral election in this otherwise insignificant Styrian town had caught the nation’s attention.

So naturally, the mayoral debate was going to be livestreamed on YouTube.

Laura got there early for once, to get a good parking spot, and to figure out where she should be standing during the debate, where she wouldn’t be in the way of the livestreaming gear. She was getting out of her car when a black luxury sedan pulled up in front of it. Out came Matska Belmonde, followed by Carmilla, whose lips curled into a sneer as soon as she spotted Laura.

“Nice car,” was all Carmilla said, before she hustled after her candidate.

“Ugh.” Laura rolled her eyes. She slung her bag over her shoulder, made sure her car was locked, and went inside the venue. She circled the stage, sussing out the best angle to take photos of Danny. A few metres away from her, Carmilla was doing the same thing.

Carmilla was looking through the viewfinder of her camera, adjusting the exposure settings under the lighting conditions. “You like debates, cupcake?” she asked, not lowering the camera from her face.

“Guess so,” Laura said. She _loved_ debates, but Carmilla Karnstein didn’t deserve her enthusiasm.

“Figured you would,” Carmilla said. “I do enjoy a good debate myself.”

Laura’s next words came out so fast, she swore they just spilled out: “That explains a lot about you.”

Carmilla laughed. Like, actually _laughed_. She lowered her camera so that she could look Laura in the eye. “I hope you don’t start holding that against me,” she said.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Laura said. “There are a lot of other things I can hold against you.”

“Right.” Carmilla couldn’t keep the smirk off her face, and that was when Laura realised that she had just put her foot in her mouth.

As briskly as she could, she walked backstage to where Danny’s team was preparing her for the debate. She took a few photographs of them, only stopping when Kirsch walked in, looking uncharacteristically worried.

Mel picked up on this right away. “What’s up, Kirsch?” she asked.

“There’s like, a bunch of Nazis outside,” Kirsch replied.

“Nazis?” Laura asked. She shouldn’t be surprised. This was Austria, after all. The _Krone_ was their most widely circulated newspaper. The whole country was an ideal breeding ground for the far right. But Laura didn’t expect them to be crashing a mayoral election debate in _Silas_ , of all places.

Kirsch nodded. “Swastikas and all,” he said. “They’ve been asking to get let in. Will—that’s my buddy who works for Mattie—and I told security to, you know, not let them do that. But I think they’re gonna be staying outside. Freedom of speech and assembly and all.”

“Fuck’s sake.” Mel placed her hands on her hips. “Always feeling entitled to the things they don’t want other people to have.” She looked at Danny. “How are you feeling about that, Lawrence?”

Danny looked more determined than ever. “Let’s give them a show.”

The debate itself went smoothly. The moderator was fair, and gave both Danny and Mattie ample opportunities to flesh out their ideas and back up their arguments. Even Danny and Mattie were exceptionally gracious towards one another, which was a refreshing feature in the recent political climate. There was an even split of supporters in the live audience, and although there were a handful of trolls on the livestream chat, the whole affair managed to be a rational and civil discussion.

It was the aftermath that got messy.

Because the Nazis persisted on remaining outside the venue, Kirsch and his counterpart from the Belmonde campaign had to arrange for the candidates and their teams to exit through the rear of the venue. Danny went first. Laura watched as they got into one van, leaving her and Kirsch behind.

Kirsch stayed because he wanted to make sure that none of the Nazis slipped past security to follow the van. Laura stayed because, well, she was Laura. And she was pretty sure that Kirsch didn’t even notice her following him through the front entrance of the venue.

The Nazis were there, about thirty of them, consisting mostly of young men. None of them were screaming obscenities, but they looked visibly irate at the fact that they were surrounded by security guards. Many of them were wearing leather jackets with swastika patches, and there were a number of them holding signs. Most of them were directed at Mattie.

One of the Nazis spotted the camera slung across her body, and initiated a chant. It was a chant created specifically for the event, involving a whole bunch of racist and sexist slurs against Matska Belmonde.

Laura may be a provincial girl, and she may be working for Danny Lawrence, but hearing those vile words made her _snap_. She rushed forward, sneaking past Kirsch, until she was face to face with the Nazi. They were separated only by the metal barrier and a sole security guard.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Laura screamed. “You’re the ones who shouldn’t be here! You’re disgusting! You’re scum! You’re the reason why Aust–”

She was cut off by the Nazi spitting in her face, which just caused the rest of them to erupt in a stronger chorus.

Laura wiped her face on her sleeve, and she couldn’t believe it, but she was about to punch a Nazi. But then someone grabbed her by the waist and dragged her backwards. And it was someone _way_ smaller than Kirsch. Out of shock, Laura elbowed this person right in the diaphragm, just like her father taught her.

The person grunted, relinquishing their grip on Laura.

Laura stumbled backwards. As she looked up, she realised that the person managed to pull her back into the venue’s foyer. She regained her balance and turned around to face them. Her eyes widened when she saw who it was. “Carmilla?”

Carmilla was on the floor, breathing hard, her hand on her stomach. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” she gasped.

* * *

Carmilla was supposed to get in the car with Mattie. She had no car, no other means of getting back to her hotel. But when she saw Laura following Danny Lawrence’s security guy, apparently without the guy knowing, she decided that she wasn’t going with Mattie after all. She guessed that Laura’s journalistic instincts had kicked into overdrive upon detecting the presence of Nazis. Typical.

Carmilla was no stranger to Nazis. They were in Paris, they were in Vienna, they were in every major city in Europe. They were mostly pathetic, snotty, and immature, but Carmilla didn’t underestimate how dangerous they were. So as soon as she saw Laura get right up in a skinhead’s personal space, she watched her closely.

And then the skinhead spat at Laura. Carmilla leapt forward, and grabbed Laura just as she was cocking her arm back, her fist clenched. It wasn’t worth it. There was a right time to punch a Nazi, and it wasn’t when he had thirty of his friends with him.

It was difficult, dragging Laura into the foyer, and she even made it harder by driving her elbow right into Carmilla. Winded, Carmilla fell back on the floor, waiting for Laura to regain her bearings. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” she asked, as soon as Laura turned around and saw her.

“Did you hear what they were saying about Mattie?” Laura asked. Her face was still glistening, from sweat or the spit, Carmilla couldn’t work out.

Carmilla nodded. “Of course I did,” she said.

“And you were there the whole time and you decided not to do anything about it?”

“You have to understand something, Laura.” Carmilla grunted as she got to her feet. “People like them, they’re always going to say shit like that about people like Mattie. That is not gonna change. Not even being punched by you is going to get them to change their mind.”

“It’s not about changing their minds,” Laura said. “It’s about making them think twice about broadcasting their vile beliefs.”

“I should’ve known you would be into such futile causes,” Carmilla said.

Laura’s eyes flashed. “So you’re saying you’re all right with Nazis?”

“Fuck no, I’m not all right with them,” Carmilla said. “But I’m not gonna punch them in public either.”

“So what do you suggest I do?” Laura asked.

Carmilla nodded at the camera strapped to Laura’s body. “What you do best.”

Laura cocked her head. “Are you an idealist, Carmilla Karnstein? Photography will change the world and all that?” she asked.

“Idealist?” Carmilla scoffed. “No, I just don’t like it when people act recklessly against them. Best to fight them by sticking to your strengths.” She was aware that she was being the voice of reason, which was an unusual role for her, but then again, she didn’t rescue people from a horde of Nazis on a regular basis either. Besides, she was finally having a proper conversation with Laura that didn’t involve deception or thinly veiled snark.

“Whatever,” was all Laura could say.

“You’re welcome,” Carmilla said.

Laura’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. Thank you, for getting me out of there. Seriously,” she said. And then she moved forward, her hands reaching out for Carmilla’s torso. “I elbowed you pretty hard. Are you okay?”

Carmilla moved away automatically at the hint of Laura’s touch. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said. “Probably will bruise tomorrow, but I’m okay. I caught you off guard, it was my fault.”

The tall man who was Danny Lawrence’s staffer burst into the foyer. “Laura! Security just told me you were in here!” he exclaimed. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” He noticed Carmilla. “Oh, and you are?”

Carmilla introduced herself, and then offered a small explanation of why she was there: “I, uh, had to pull Laura away from the Nazis.”

The man buried his face in his hands. “Danny’s going to kill me,” he said. “I should’ve known you were behind me, Laura. Why didn’t you go in the van?”

Laura shrugged. “My car’s still here,” she said. “And don’t worry, Kirsch, I’m fine. And I’ll tell Danny that you’re not responsible for any of this at all.”

“Security called the cops on them. They should be arriving any minute now,” Kirsch said. “Give me your car keys, I’ll bring your car around the back and you can leave from there.”

“Kirsch–” Laura began.

“Cupcake, give him the keys,” Carmilla said.

Surprisingly, Laura listened to her. She handed her keys over to Kirsch.

“Wait by the back exit,” Kirsch said, before walking back outside. As he opened the door, the sound of sirens was evident in the distance.

Laura turned to Carmilla. “How are you getting home?” she asked.

“Home’s a hotel right now. I can probably get security to call me a taxi,” Carmilla said.

“Which hotel?” Laura asked. “Do you want a ride? It’s the least I could do.”

Carmilla found it hard to say no to that.


	2. Chapter 2

Laura was seeing so much more of Carmilla, and eventually, inexplicably, she found less and less reasons to complain about it. She supposed that it started the night of the first mayoral debate, but it may have also started a few days later, when Carmilla turned up after one of Danny’s events. She asked Laura where she was going for lunch.

“How did you know I was going for lunch?” Laura had asked.

“You just finished an event,” Carmilla had said. “You probably want to get something to eat, right?”

They ended up having sandwiches together.

It became a semi-regular thing. If Carmilla wasn’t busy with the Belmonde campaign, Laura noticed that she would turn up right when Danny’s events were finishing, and would stay back until the campaign team had left. That was when she would approach Laura.

“Isn’t this kind of stalkery?” Laura had asked her during the third time it happened.

“If you’re not okay with it, then I’m not okay with it,” Carmilla had said.

Laura decided that she was okay with it. 

It turned out that when Carmilla wasn’t being purposely argumentative, she was an interesting conversationalist. It surprised Laura how much they had to talk about, and more importantly, how easy it was to say things that she thought she’d never end up saying out loud.

“I have a question for you,” Carmilla said. “Why do you stay behind after campaign events? Why don’t you join the rest of the team?”

“I don’t like going to debriefs,” Laura admitted.

Carmilla looked intrigued. “Why’s that?” she asked.

“I just want to keep a level of detachment between my work and the nuts and bolts of the campaign,” Laura explained. “The policy meetings are fine, most of the meetings are fine, the events are fun… But the debriefs, like, going over every little thing over and over again, when people are already exhausted and pissed at each other. I feel like that would influence my work.”

“I understand that,” Carmilla said. “So you go out to eat instead?”

Laura smiled at her. “I’m all about the simple pleasures,” she said.

“I can understand that, too.”

After Danny was interviewed at the local radio station, Laura met up with Carmilla for brunch. Laura sang the praises of the silent shooting mode on her second camera, which had come in handy so many times during the campaign. Carmilla responded with her thoughts on how in awe she was of how far camera technology had come.

“What was your first camera?” Laura asked.

“The first camera I ever held was an Olympus film compact that my father kept in the drawer of his study. He only ever brought it out when we were on vacation,” Carmilla said fondly. “And then my parents got me a Canon G5 for one of my birthdays. Can’t remember which one.”

“Of course you remember,” Laura said. A photographer always remembered their first camera.

Carmilla’s lips twitched into a soft smile. “Of course I do. My tenth birthday,” she said. “I used that thing until it gave up on me. I was sixteen. But then I found this film SLR at a secondhand store. I used that for a while until I convinced my parents to get me the latest DSLR at the time.”

“Was this in Vienna?” Laura asked.

“No, my family’s from Graz,” Carmilla said. “My parents think too highly of themselves to ever move to Vienna.”

Laura didn’t know what Carmilla exactly meant by that, but she didn’t prod. “You know, I’ve never been to Vienna,” she told Carmilla.

Carmilla’s brow furrowed. “What? How could you have never been to Vienna?”

“I guess I never had a reason to go to there. I’m from Burgenland, you know. I didn’t even consider going to university in Vienna, and my dad’s overprotective, so letting me come to Silas was a huge deal in itself,” Laura said.

“You’ve got an overprotective dad, huh?”

Laura nodded. “Overprotective  _ single  _ dad,” she said. “But I love him more than anyone else. He doesn’t make a lot of money but he got me my first camera. He’s always been extra supportive of every little thing I got myself into. And he got me this, too.” She tapped the bag containing the camera she had just been talking about. “For Christmas last year, and as a graduation present.”

“I’m pretty sure my parents just bought me cameras to shut me up,” Carmilla said.

And again, Laura knew not to prod, but really, she knew all that she needed to know.

Just over a week after that brunch, Laura decided that she was going to be the one to visit Carmilla after one of Mattie’s events. She finished a shift at Perry’s, and then went back to her apartment to freshen up and get into some cleaner clothes. She didn’t realise that this was probably odd until she left the house. After all, Carmilla didn’t pay special attention to her appearance whenever she turned up to see Laura, right? Carmilla just always looked like  _ that _ .

But it wasn’t as if Laura wanted to turn back and put her sweaty work clothes back on.

Mattie’s event was a roundtable dinner with Silas’s business owners. She had booked out the town’s fanciest restaurant for it. Laura wasn’t quite sure what time it would finish, so she sat in her car and entertained herself with a game on her phone.

Just after ten o’clock, she noticed a familiar figure emerging from the restaurant. From the walk and the telltale shoulder bag, Laura was certain who it was. 

Carmilla stood underneath a lamp just outside the restaurant, casting her features in a warm halogen glow. 

Laura’s jaw went slack. Carmilla had a distinct sense of style, and Laura thought she wore too much black and was too obnoxiously cosmopolitan, but it wasn’t like she was complaining. But her outfits so far had been casual. Not tonight. Carmilla was wearing a classic little black dress, made edgy by the fact that the dress’s hem was probably shorter than was appropriate for a campaign dinner. With it, she was wearing a pair of plain black flats, which were the sensible choice if she had been walking around to take photos. Her hair was up in a ponytail, emphasising her sharp jawline and exposing her smooth neck.

Laura’s cheeks grew hot as she caught herself staring. But Carmilla, standing under that lamp, looked cinematic. Her hands itched for her camera, which she had left at her apartment. Cursing herself for choosing not to bring it, she got out of her car and waved to Carmilla.

Carmilla walked over to here. “Hey, cupcake,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d take you out for once,” Laura said. “I don’t suppose you want to go for a late dinner.”

“I didn’t even get to eat in there,” Carmilla said. “Where were you thinking of going?”

Laura didn’t plan this beforehand, but her impulses simply took over: “I was thinking we should drive to Graz.”

* * *

It was past eleven PM when they arrived in Graz. Carmilla felt uneasy, looking at the lights of the city where she was born and raised. She hadn’t been back in a while. She didn’t even stop by on her way to Silas. But most of her discomfort fell away when she saw the look on Laura’s face.

“I can’t believe Silas has the second biggest population in Styria,” Laura commented. “Compared to  _ this _ .”

Carmilla wanted to tell her that Laura hadn’t even seen anything yet. Vienna was much more impressive, but it didn’t hold a candle to Paris. But she just smiled at her. “It’s not my favourite place in the world,” she said.

“Our hometowns rarely are,” Laura said, nodding understandingly. “Got any suggestions for anything that would be open late at night?”

Carmilla racked her brain. At this time, the only places open in Graz were bars, clubs, and hole in the walls that served people who were sobering up after a night out. Not exactly the type of places to have good conversations in. She thought about it some more. “I know one place,” she said. “They usually close about now, but the owner knows my parents.”

Laura chuckled. “Of course.”

“I should probably call ahead.” Carmilla dug into her bag for her phone. She searched the restaurant’s number on Google and called them, specifically asking for the owner. The owner sounded delighted to hear from her, and guaranteed Carmilla that the kitchen would still open for their arrival.

“All right, lead the way,” Laura said.

The restaurant was a family-owned restaurant that served hearty comfort food. Carmilla often ate there as a teenager, but rarely with her family. The main reason that the owner knew her parents was because they loaned her money when she was in need. Still, the owner never treated Carmilla like she was the daughter of the wealthiest family in the city. She treated her like the punk kid that she was.

Carmilla received a warm welcome from the owner, who served them personally, and then when their food was ready, left them alone to enjoy their meals.

“How was the event?” Laura asked.

“Same old, same old,” Carmilla said. “I can’t wait until the election is over.”

Laura’s eyes searched her face. “Do you miss Vienna?”

Carmilla thought about it. She hadn’t taken to the culture and vibe of Silas, and she still didn’t enjoy political photography enough, but was she longing for Vienna? Not really. So she shrugged, and said, “I haven’t really had much time to think about it. Mattie and Lilita Morgan run me pretty hard.”

“You know, I always wondered what it’s like to be a commercial photographer,” Laura said. “I mean, I don’t feel drawn to it, but I think about what it would be like to work in that side of the industry.”

“I enjoy all the work that goes into it, even before I look through my camera and start shooting,” Carmilla told her. “They give you an idea or a concept, and you tease it out into something more concrete. Something with a proper look and feel. And then you suggest a few locations, draw up a shot list, set up what kind of lighting requirements would be needed… It can be chaotic on the day itself, but up to that point, there are a lot of things in your control.”

“That’s like, the opposite of what I do,” Laura said.

Carmilla nodded. “I know,” she said. “You take what the moment gives you.”

“It seems so amateur, now that you’ve just listed what you do.”

“I don’t think it’s amateur at all,” Carmilla said. “You’re not in control of much, but you get excellent shots anyway.”

“It’s like what Cartier-Bresson went on about,” Laura said. “The decisive moment.”

“Are you a Cartier-Bresson fangirl?” Carmilla asked.

Laura shook her head. “I like his work, but I think he’s got enough fanboys already,” she said. “No, I’m more of the type to look at my contemporaries, see what they’re doing. Instagram makes it easy.”

Carmilla was suddenly curious. “Did you ever look me up? Before I was in Silas, I mean.”

“Yeah, I did, actually,” Laura said. “After the Elle Sheridan shoot. I was blown away. You shot her for  _ Vogue _ , and you're the same age as me! Meanwhile, I was still at university…”

“Some days I wish I went to university,” Carmilla said. “I was decent at school, and when I wasn’t holding a camera, I was reading a book.”

“What was Elle Sheridan like?” Laura asked.

“She was… a celebrity,” Carmilla said, and left it at that.

“Oh, so she was mean?”

“No, she was nice enough, but you know, she was famous. And I really wasn’t anyone back then, so there was that,” Carmilla said. “She’s doing well now, though.”

A year ago, Elle Sheridan was the hottest young actress in French cinema. After a breakthrough film that caught international attention, she managed to land a role in a Marvel franchise and garner a handful of high-profile endorsement deals. 

Carmilla decided that she’d never tell anyone that they slept together. For six months.

Thankfully, Laura moved on quickly, asking about the other celebrities that Carmilla had photographed since.

After eating at the restaurant, Carmilla took Laura to a spot by the river, where she used to hang out as a teenager. Graz had changed, but Carmilla felt many of the same things. She felt the same rush she did when she would sneak out late at night with girls, keeping secrets from her parents. The same comfort of sitting on a bench in the dimly lit area along the river, wearing her heart on her sleeve and listening earnestly as the girls reciprocated. The same feeling that time had somehow suspended itself for as long as they remained in that spot.

It was after dawn when Laura drove her back to her hotel in Silas. She didn’t even have time to brush her teeth before she collapsed on her bed, trying to ignore the warmth in her stomach, and the grin on her face.

* * *

Betty was already up having breakfast when Laura got into the house. She was surprised, but managed to keep her reaction as low-key as possible. “Hey, Hollis,” she drawled. “Long night?”

Laura kicked her sneakers off and joined Betty at the dining table. “Good night,” she said. She was impulsive in many aspects of her life, but she didn’t believe herself to be so impulsive that she would invite a girl to Graz to pull an all-nighter by the riverside. Perhaps there was a first time for everything.

Betty’s eyebrow quirked up. “You were with Carmilla Karnstein again, weren’t you?” she asked.

“Yeah, I was.” There was no point denying it. “We went to Graz.”

“Graz? Did you go clubbing or something? It’s not even a weekend,” Betty said.

“No, we just got something to eat and hung out,” Laura said.

“Oh my god. Something happened, huh?” Betty let out an excited burst of laughter. “You’re holding back the details, so something  _ must’ve  _ happened!”

Laura shook her head. “No, no,” she insisted. “We actually just hung out.”

“All right. But you two have been doing a lot of hanging out lately,” Betty said. “I mean, the obvious conflict of interest aside…”

“What do you mean?”

Betty shrugged. “You work for Danny, she works for Matska Belmonde,” she said. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“I never thought it was,” Laura said. Mel and Danny were aware that she had been spending time with Carmilla, but Laura’s role in the campaign was probably so inconsequential that they hadn’t said anything about it. Besides, Kirsch was best friends with Will. Both of them were privy to more details about their respective candidates’ campaigns than Laura or Carmilla would ever be. “Carmilla and I talk about pretty much everything but politics anyway,” she added.

“Wow,” Betty said. “You like her.”

Laura’s eyes widened. “I do  _ not _ !”

“Hollis.” Betty was grinning. “You like Carmilla Karnstein.” She leaned forward, no doubt to examine the blush rapidly creeping up Laura’s neck. “Like, you  _ really  _ like her. It’s not just the dumb crush you had on Danny back in freshman year -”

“We promised not to talk about that,” Laura cut her off.

Betty’s voice was louder now: “You like Carmilla Karnstein!”

And Laura did. She did like Carmilla. She liked the way Carmilla, no matter how hard she tried to be dishevelled, always looked like she should be the one being photographed in magazines. She liked how Carmilla’s favourite food was sandwiches. She liked that she knew what Carmilla’s first camera was. She liked how Carmilla had the ability to be so sincere and earnest when Laura least expected it.

“Oh shit,” Laura said.

Betty was already standing up and washing her dishes. “I’ll let you deal with that,” she said. “I gotta get to work.”

As soon as she heard the bathroom door close, Laura slumped forward in her seat, burying her face into her hands. “Oh shit,” she repeated.

* * *

There was a good buzz throughout the Belmonde campaign headquarters. It was a week out from the election and Mattie had just overtaken Danny in the polls. The way people were acting, they might as well have broken out the champagne. Carmilla heard that they’d already ordered a number of crates in for election day. From the actual region of Champagne. As if Matska Belmonde would have any less.

Mattie had no events on that day, just meetings while her staffers and volunteers worked the phones. Carmilla stuck around headquarters, taking behind the scenes photos of Mattie and the team. She felt like she was in the zone. As she moved around, it was like the photos were composing themselves for her. It was an uninterrupted series of decisive moments. All she did was bring her camera to her eye and press the shutter.

She went back to her hotel just before dinnertime. She took a shower, and then turned the TV onto one of the local channels while she sorted the photos she took at headquarters. She found about a dozen that she thought would be perfect for Mattie’s social media, so she started on editing those. When she finished, she uploaded three to Instagram and sent the rest through for Mattie’s social media person to deal with.

She ordered sandwiches and juice from room service for dinner.

Just as the hotel employee was taking Carmilla’s plates away, her phone buzzed, alerting her to a text message from Laura.  _ Stressed AF. You wanna hang out somewhere?  _ she was asking.

_ Already settled in for the night _ , Carmilla typed. She was already in her pyjamas and though she did want to see Laura, she didn’t want to get changed.  _ You can come to my hotel room. 307, say you’re coming to see me.  _ She pressed send.

Not even fifteen minutes later, the front desk called her to inform that Laura had arrived. Carmilla told them to just let her straight through. It only took a couple of minutes, and then someone was knocking on her door.

Laura  _ did  _ look stressed. Shoulders tense, she strode into the hotel room, stopped until she was half a metre away from the bed, and just stared at it.

“You can sit down,” Carmilla said. She walked over to the bed, closed her laptop and put it aside, and then sat down, pushing herself up so that she was sitting in the middle with her legs crossed beneath her. “Come on. Do you want me to get room service?”

“I already ate,” Laura said.

“Minibar, then?” Carmilla suggested. “Mattie’s campaign is paying for it.”

Laura looked like she was considering it. “What have you got?” she eventually asked.

The minibar selections were limited, so Carmilla settled for a bottle of wine from room service instead. She let Laura calm down and get comfortable while she waited for the waiter to come up with the bottle. 

“I swear we’ve cleared them of their prosecco inventory the last couple of months I’ve been here,” she said, as she poured glasses for Laura and herself.

Laura was sitting on the bed now, leaning against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of her. The shoulder bag she kept her camera in was on the desk on the other side of the room. She accepted the glass of wine from Carmilla. “I’m surprised they didn’t put you up somewhere nicer,” she said. “I’m sure there are Airbnb listings here.”

Carmilla sipped her wine. “Is there, though? There’s nothing much to do here.” She shrugged. “Besides, it was either this hotel room or getting put up in Lilita Morgan’s house. No, thank you,” she said emphatically.

“What’s wrong with Lilita Morgan?” Laura asked. “Besides being some crazy rich lady.”

“She’s like, my aunt or something. We’re not related, but my parents have a history with her,” Carmilla replied. “She’s just been around all my life, getting her perfectly manicured fingers  _ in  _ my life. I’m not her biggest fan.”

“Clearly,” Laura said. “Your life is so interesting.”

“Drink your wine, cupcake.” Carmilla watched as Laura obliged. “Want to tell me why you’re stressed out?”

Laura pinched the bridge of her nose. “Danny’s losing,” she said.

“It’s not the elections yet.”

“Yeah, but she’s behind in the polling,” Laura said. “I’m sure you know that.”

This was complicated. Carmilla had long realised that she wasn’t invested in the outcome of the election either way, but she could tell that Laura believed in Danny Lawrence. She wasn’t in the right position, nor did she have the words, to console Laura. “You two must be good friends,” she said.

“She was my TA during my first semester at Silas U. She’s from Vienna, did you know that? Brought all her big city ideas with her. I thought she was Wonder Woman, to be honest. I’m just from Burgenland, you know? We didn’t have people like her over there,” Laura said.

Carmilla felt a twinge of jealousy as she listened to the way Laura talked about Danny Lawrence. She wondered if she inspired the same feeling of awe. “Have you two, uh,” she cleared her throat, “have you two ever -”

“Oh, no!” Laura shook her head. “I got over that pretty quickly. Schoolgirl crush.”

“Right,” Carmilla said. “She’s pretty lucky, though. To have someone who believes in her like you do.”

Laura chuckled. “She only needs me for posterity’s sake,” she said. “All the goodness, the compassion, the sense of service… that’s all her.”

There it was again. Carmilla drained her wine glass and then poured herself another. Her hands shook slightly as she prepared to deliver her next words. She didn’t want to spill any wine on the bed so she placed it on the nightstand. “You’re a pretty special one yourself,” she said. “Your photography, I mean. It’s special.”

“It’s nothing like what you do,” Laura said.

Before she could say any more, Carmilla interrupted her. “Yeah, it’s nothing like what I do. It might even be better,” she said. “You know, when I first came to Silas, Mattie’s campaign couldn’t stop talking about Danny Lawrence’s photographer. And I looked at the pictures, and I understood why they were so obsessed with you. I got caught up in it myself.”

Laura’s face had taken on a peculiar, unreadable expression. She finished her wine and placed the glass on the nightstand, next to Carmilla’s. “You did?”

“Why do you think I followed you into that bakery?” Carmilla asked. She nodded at Laura’s empty glass. “Do you want some more wine?”

“No, thanks,” Laura responded. “And I thought you were just eccentric.”

“Eccentric.” Carmilla couldn’t help but laugh. “No, Laura. You intrigued me.” She let the words hang in the air. Laura’s expression got harder to read each second that passed. Carmilla went one further: “You still intrigue me.” 

“Carm,” Laura said softly. She inched closer to her on the bed, the space between them disappearing.

Carmilla’s mind barely had any time to register what was happening, and then Laura’s lips were on hers. She turned her body towards Laura, so that she could reach forward and cup her face. They kissed each other slowly, hesitantly, like they were afraid of what would happen next.

Laura pulled away. Their faces remained centimetres apart. There was a questioning look in her eye, but it seemed as if she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

She didn’t need to. Carmilla simply nodded at her, before leaning in for another kiss. 

Laura’s right hand reached up to thread her fingers through the hair on the back of Carmilla’s head, deepening the kiss. She slipped her tongue into Carmilla’s mouth, causing Carmilla to gasp. This seemed to only encourage Laura more, because she shifted forward, her momentum causing both of them to fall horizontal on the bed.

Carmilla was overwhelmed. She couldn’t believe how much Laura wanted this. She couldn’t believe how much  _ she  _ wanted this. Laura was on top of her, smelling like strawberries and tasting like prosecco, her hips moving slowly against Carmilla’s. Carmilla, for her part, couldn’t stop  _ touching  _ Laura. Her hands grasped at Laura’s back, skimmed Laura’s sides, slid under the hem of Laura’s t-shirt to reach her warm skin.

Laura’s mouth has moved onto Carmilla’s jaw and down Carmilla’s neck, and Carmilla swore she could feel Laura smile against her throat when she couldn’t hold back a moan. When Carmilla’s hands started playing with the fastening of Laura’s bra, Laura changed her position so that her knees were on either side of Carmilla’s hips. She sat up, leading Carmilla’s hands to slide down the front of her stomach. She looked down at Carmilla, smiling, her eyes glinting suggestively.

Carmilla twisted the hem of Laura’s t-shirt around the fingers of her left hand. The question went unsaid. She waited for Laura’s nod, before untangling her fingers from the fabric. With both hands, she took Laura’s t-shirt off and tossed it aside. She let Laura pull her up into a seated position to take her tank top off. And then down they went again, the bare skin of their torsos making contact, their breathing getting heavier and heavier, their noises more unrestrained.

And then Carmilla caught herself. “Fuck.” She placed a firm hand on Laura’s shoulder. “Laura.”

Laura rolled off of her. Concern overtook the lust in her eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Laura.” Carmilla took a deep breath. “I really like you, but I don’t want us to start like this.”

“Oh.” Laura self-consciously reached for her t-shirt, but was stopped by Carmilla’s hand on her wrist. “Carm,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go this far so fast.”

Carmilla let go of Laura’s wrist, and watched as Laura pulled her t-shirt back on. Carmilla put her tank top back on, too. “That’s okay. Don’t feel bad, please. I want it as much as you do,” she said.

“What’s stopping you then?”

“I want to do this properly. Dates and all. When there’s no more election to think about,” Carmilla said. “That’s a week from now, right?”

“I can be patient,” Laura said.

“Good.” Carmilla smiled at her. “Me too.”

“I should go home then,” Laura said. “I can ask my flatmate to come pick me up, and I’ll get my car in the morning.”

“No, stay awhile,” Carmilla said.

Laura laughed. “Carm, if you want me to be patient, you’ll let me go home,” she said. “If I stay here any longer, well,” she gestured at Carmilla, on the bed in nothing but a tank top and dangerously short shorts, “I’ve resisted you long enough, all right?”

“Well,” Carmilla smirked, “thanks for being honest about my irresistibility.”

“And thank  _ you  _ for being humble,” Laura said. She began typing a message on her phone. “I’ll wait down in the lobby. I’ll text you when I’m home.” She leaned in to kiss Carmilla on the cheek, dangerously close to the corner of her lips. She was aware of this, too, judging by her giggle.

When Laura left the room, Carmilla leaned back on her pillows, still catching her breath. She may need another shower.

* * *

It was a picture perfect moment, if Laura didn’t think about it too much. Danny Lawrence, sitting in the dark in her office, illuminated only by the last rays of the sun peeking through the blinds. She was in her chair, half-turned away from the door, one arm resting casually on the edge of her desk as she stared into space.

All Laura had to do was peer through her viewfinder and press the shutter. But she couldn’t.

Fifty-eight percent of the vote was counted and Danny was lagging behind. She had thirty-five percent of the votes so far. When counting began, she had started off with a narrow lead, but as soon as Mattie took over, the gap was only getting wider. Mel had asked her what she wanted to do.

“Let me know when they’ve counted seventy percent,” Danny had said, before disappearing into her office.

Laura gave her some time before following her inside. She decided against taking the photograph. “You all right, Danny?” she asked.

Danny didn’t even turn to look at her. “I will be,” she said. “How’s the vote going?”

Laura told her.

“We did everything, didn’t we?” Danny asked quietly. “I didn’t miss anything out.”

Laura knew that Danny was certain that she had lost the election. And frankly, Laura wasn’t going to disagree with that. They had a head start, right at the beginning of summer, but it ended up being Matska Belmonde’s election after all. “Don’t doubt yourself, Danny. You worked really hard,” Laura told her. “We all did. You know, everyone out there busted their asses for this campaign. And if it’s not enough, then it’s not enough…”

“And we just go onto the next one,” Danny said.

“Exactly,” Laura said.

Danny swivelled her chair so now she was facing Laura. In her defeated state, she looked younger, softer. “It’s just one election, right?” She was seeking reassurance. “There are going to be other ones.”

“And you’re out there now,” Laura said. “They can’t ignore you anymore.”

“Well, I guess that’s what I wanted.” Danny took a deep breath. “Laura? Tell Mel to come in here when they’ve counted sixty-five percent. We need to call Mattie, and then we need to set up for my concession speech.”

Laura woke up the next day and Matska Belmonde was the mayor-elect of Silas. It wasn’t until the afternoon until her phone alerted her with a text from Carmilla:  _ Morning, cupcake. Long night for me. Hope you’re well. Talk soon. _

She didn’t reply to it. She didn’t want to. It wasn’t until when she drove to the Lawrence campaign headquarters that she realised why.

It took her a while to muster the strength to get out of her car. From behind the wheel, she watched as Danny’s campaign team packed up headquarters. They took down the signs, the posters, the canvas prints, and loaded them onto two pickup trucks waiting outside. Mel was standing outside, hands on hips as she facilitated everything. Through the window, Laura spotted Kirsch inside, who was helping two guys as they carried furniture through the jumble of boxes on the floor.

All these people, including Laura herself, spent the entire summer working hard to make sure Danny won the election. They could literally have been anywhere else, but here they were, on crap pay or on no pay, knocking on doors, working the phones, sticking flyers on walls and lamp posts around Silas. And there was no reward for their hard work.

Laura believed that it wouldn’t be fair for her to enjoy a happy ending with Carmilla, after all that happened. Not only would it be awkward, but it would feel like slapping Danny in the face, since Carmilla worked for Mattie. Laura was naive to think that she could be happy with Carmilla no matter what the outcome of the election was. It was an election, after all. If Carmilla had been on the losing side, she would have felt the same way.

Besides, they probably got caught up that night in the hotel room, anyway. The stress, the prosecco, the heat of the moment… Carmilla in those short shorts. Neither of them were thinking clearly. If they were, then they would have realised how much of a bad idea it was. They lived different lives. Carmilla’s photographs have already ended up on the covers of  _ Vogue  _ and  _ Vanity Fair _ . Laura was lucky if she was ever going to get published in Silas’s daily newspaper.

And so Laura let her texts go unanswered.

* * *

Carmilla was being  _ ghosted _ . She couldn’t believe it. This was something she had a track record of doing to other girls, not the other way around. The ridiculousness of that aside, she felt quite hurt that she was being ghosted by Laura Hollis, the first girl she properly liked in  _ ages _ .

She guessed that Laura would be disappointed in the results of the election, so she didn’t take issue when Laura didn’t reply to her during the first couple of days afterwards. She got that Laura needed her space, needed the time to regroup and commiserate with the rest of the Lawrence campaign team. She knew how much Laura believed in Danny Lawrence. Carmilla could only imagine how shitty she must be feeling.

But then the first couple of days turned into a week, and then the week turned into ten days. Carmilla had even dropped by Perry’s to see if Laura was working there, and to all the other bakeries in town to see if Laura was consuming her weight in pastries, but there was no sign of her anywhere. She had no choice but to do the unthinkable.

She called Will to ask him for a favour. To ask his friend Kirsch where Laura lived. Carmilla got her answer quickly, but simply stared at Laura’s address before deciding that she would just go see her the next day.

When Carmilla arrived at the address, there was a tall, blonde woman who was locking the door. She was wearing scrubs. This must be Laura’s flatmate. “Uh, hello there,” she said, getting the woman’s attention. “Is Laura in?”

The woman regarded her. Her jaw tensed. “Oh, I’m guessing you’re Carmilla Karnstein,” she said. “The girl that Laura is being an idiot over. Hmm.” Her eyes took in Carmilla’s appearance. “Congratulations, Hollis,” she muttered.

“Yes, I am,” Carmilla said. And then, “Why is Laura being an idiot?”

“I assume you’ve come here to talk to her, so you can see for yourself,” the woman said. “Just remember: it’s not your fault. Even if she makes it sound like it is.”

Carmilla was confused. Was this woman actually Laura’s  _ friend _ ? “Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

“Because Laura knows exactly what a good thing is, and then does everything in her power to pretend that it’s not,” the woman said. She unlocked the door. “Anyway, I gotta go to work. Good luck with that. I’m sure she’ll let me know how it goes.” She walked past Carmilla and rounded the corner without so much as a goodbye.

Carmilla entered the apartment. As she bent down to take her shoes off, she heard movement from the living room.

“Betty? Did you forget something?” Laura appeared in the hallway, and froze once she saw her unexpected visitor. “Carmilla,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

* * *

“You haven’t been replying to my messages. I was beginning to get worried.” When Laura didn’t respond, Carmilla continued talking. “I met your flatmate. She seems nice. Blunt, but nice.”

Laura was at a loss on what to do. Of course, she knew that Carmilla was capable of surprises. She just didn’t expect her to actually come to where Laura lived just because Laura was ignoring her texts. She didn’t account for that. And now she felt terrible for ignoring those texts, because Carmilla looked nervous. Beautiful, but nervous.

“Do you want like, a glass of juice or something?” Laura asked.

“No, thank you,” Carmilla said.

“Well, let’s come sit in the living room,” Laura said, beckoning Carmilla.

Carmilla sat on the couch while Laura took the armchair beside it. Carmilla looked around the apartment, and then back at Laura. “So, what’s up? Have you not been feeling well or something?” Clearly, she wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“I’ve been exhausted, but I’m fine,” Laura responded.

“Too exhausted not to even send me  _ one  _ text?” Carmilla asked.

Laura sighed. “Carmilla -”

“I just want to know what I did wrong, Laura,” Carmilla said. “Was I too forward? Did I make you do something that you didn’t want to? Did you realise that you actually don’t want me? It’s okay to tell me, you know. I just want you to be honest.”

“It’s not any of those things -”

“Then what is it?”

“Danny lost,” Laura said. “Danny lost to Mattie. I like you, Carmilla, but I don’t feel right liking you because I feel like I’m screwing Danny and the campaign team over.”

“How’s that? Will and Kirsch are still the best of friends,” Carmilla said.

“This,” Laura gestured between the two of them, “ _ this  _ is not a ‘best of friends’ type of situation.”

“What kind of situation is it then?” Carmilla demanded. “And why are you so determined on fucking it up?”

Laura flinched at Carmilla’s use of profanity. “I’m not fucking anything up,” she insisted, though she might as well be lying through her teeth.

Carmilla inched forward in her seat. “You need to make this clearer for me, Laura, because I am  _ so  _ confused,” she said. “I thought that there was something between us. Was I imagining things?”

“Carm -”

“And I don’t understand what Danny or Mattie or their respective campaign teams have anything to do with this,” Carmilla interrupted her. “I thought this was just between you and me.”

“That’s just it. It has never been just about you and me,” Laura said. “Look, in any other set of circumstances -”

“This is the circumstances we’ve met in, and I don’t see anything wrong with it, so stop with that alternate universe bullshit,” Carmilla snapped.

They stared at each other for a moment.

Laura was the one to break the silence. “You’re going back to Vienna, aren’t you?” her voice was so quiet, she couldn’t even hear herself at first.

“What?”

“The mayor has no need for a photographer to follow them around. It’s not a job that’s on offer. So you must be planning on returning to Vienna,” Laura said.

Carmilla shrugged. “I mean, it was on the cards,” she said.

“I always felt like you thought there was nothing for you here in Silas,” Laura said.

“Well, you’re here,” Carmilla said.

Laura chose to ignore that. “But your life is in Vienna, right? So where does that leave us?”

Carmilla sighed. She sunk forward, her elbows resting on her knees, and she raked her fingers through her hair. And then she straightened up. “People have fallen in love in much more difficult circumstances,” she said. “If you aren’t invested in this as much as you initially let on, you could just say so.” She got to her feet, walked down the hallway, and started putting her shoes on.

“Carmilla.” Laura had followed her. She couldn't help it. She couldn't just let her go.

Carmilla raised a hand to stop Laura from saying anything more. “I got it, Laura,” she said. “Loud and clear.” With a sad smile, she stepped out the door and closed it behind her, leaving Laura standing alone.

* * *

Mattie had come to see Carmilla in her hotel room, taking an afternoon off from her mayoral duties. She was sworn in just three days ago, and after the ceremony, Carmilla booked her train tickets back to Vienna.

“You’re nearly finished packing?” Mattie asked. She looked at the open suitcase on the floor by the bed. The same suitcase Carmilla had been living out of the entire summer.

“Just waiting on laundry, then I should be good to go,” Carmilla said. Her train was leaving the next day. She had already gotten in touch with her cleaning lady in Vienna to prepare her apartment for her arrival. She had been yearning to leave Silas since her last conversation with Laura, but she had to wrap up her work with Mattie, which included documenting the process of settling into the mayor’s office. But now that was all over, Carmilla could concentrate on getting the hell out of there.

“I’ll see you off at the train station myself,” Mattie said.

Carmilla shook her head. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“Darling, would you rather say your goodbyes to William instead?”

“Good point,” Carmilla said. She looked out the window. She could see most of Silas from her hotel room. For someone with no money, or for someone who didn’t hold a powerful position, it was a dead end town. She turned back to Mattie. “So, Mayor, are we going to see some major changes around here?”

Mattie laughed. “We’ll see, darling,” she said. For a moment, she thought Mattie might thank her, but they didn’t do that sort of sentimentality. Instead, Mattie asked, “Are you going to see Lilita before you leave?”

“Lilita and I are even now, and she knows that,” Carmilla said. “I have no reason to see her.”

“Fair enough,” Mattie said. “That’s what I like about you, Carmilla. You tie up the loose ends. You don’t leave things a mess.”

Carmilla cleared her throat. “But I believe you owe me now,” she said.

“Excuse me?” Mattie raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing is a favour, everything is a debt, right?” Carmilla recalled their earlier conversation. “You know I had no intention of spending this much time in Styria. You know I would’ve begged Lilita to make me do literally anything else if this election didn’t involve you.”

Mattie nodded understandingly. “Okay. Tell me what I can do for you,” she said.

* * *

Laura’s life was back to normal, which meant that she no longer had to rush from Perry’s to whatever event Danny had on that night. Which meant that after a shift at Perry’s, she would go back to her apartment and watch Netflix until she fell asleep in front of the television. Betty would often usher her to her bed, muttering about her being heartbroken. But Laura denied that she was heartbroken. She was bored, more like.

She asked Perry for more shifts and she got them. Her cameras went untouched for weeks. She paid her bills on time and stashed the rest of the money away to save up for a holiday in Burgenland with her father.

One morning, she didn’t have work, but she was running out of things to watch on Netflix, so she began to clean her entire apartment. She vacuumed, mopped the floors, tossed the beddings in the wash, scrubbed the mould off the shower tile. She briefly contemplated  _ regrouting  _ the tile. After a couple of hours, she sat down at the dining table with a glass of juice.

Her phone started ringing. It was an unknown number. She picked it up. “Hello?”

“Good morning.” It was a woman speaking in American-accented English. “Am I speaking with Laura Hollis?”

Laura cleared her throat. “Uh, yes, you are,” she said. “May I know who’s speaking?”

“My name is Elizabeth Cochran and I’m calling from the Paris headquarters of Agence-France Presse,” the woman said. “I’ve come across your work on the Silas mayoral election and I was wondering if you’re interested in joining our staff.”

“Excuse me?”

“We have an entry-level opening for a photojournalist at our European desk,” Elizabeth Cochran explained. “Preferably a German-speaker. I know you’re currently based in Silas, but we can help you relocate so you could work out of our bureaus in either Berlin, Vienna, or Frankfurt. Your choice.”

Laura pinched herself. Was this a dream? “I’m sorry, are you sure? I just took a bunch of campaign photos for Instagram,” she said.

“Laura—I’m sorry, can I call you Laura?” When Laura murmured in assent, Elizabeth Cochran continued, “You’re pretty young, aren’t you? The AFP is always looking for young people like you to come work for us. You’re going to keep our field alive, you know. No pressure.”

“Oh, okay.” Laura was aware that she probably wasn’t making the best first impression, but she didn’t know what to say in a situation like this. Out of all her post-graduation fantasies, being cold-called by someone from an international news agency was not one of them.

“So, do you want to come in for a chat? See how you like the place,” Elizabeth Cochran suggested. “Berlin, Vienna or Frankfurt, let me know.”

Laura managed to agree to meet with the photographers at their Vienna bureau, in two days’ time. When she hung up the phone, she knew she was supposed to look for train tickets, maybe sort out her accommodation, but she remained dazed. This was going to take a while to sink in.

* * *

Photographers, from Carmilla’s experience, were obsessed with two things: time and light. If they were working with natural light, they were obsessed with light  _ in relation  _ to time, or vice-versa. When she was starting out in the studio, she was confident that everything could be fixed with the right strobe, the right flash, the right reflector. But as she ventured out to do her own shoots on location, she finally understood the obsession.

For this particular shoot, blue hour was what she was looking for. Blue hour wasn’t always an hour, but at least it occurred twice a day—just before sunrise, and just after sunset. So, late in the afternoon, accompanied by a small entourage, Carmilla headed to one of Austria’s numerous plazas with a model to shoot an editorial for  _ Marie Claire _ . There, they waited for blue hour.

Autumn had well and truly arrived in Vienna. It was Carmilla’s favourite time of year, especially for photography. With the city’s autumn colours, blue hour was even more alluring.

The sun was nearly on its way out, and the orange glow was giving way to the telltale blue haze. “All right.” Carmilla nodded at her entourage—well, they came with the model, really—and gestured at the model, who was wearing a trenchcoat over the first outfit Carmilla was going to photograph her in. “We’ve got forty-five minutes if we’re lucky. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Carmilla prided herself on her clear instructions. They hadn’t hit any snags in the shoot so far. She spent just over five minutes getting shots for the first outfit, and then announced that they were going to start on the second outfit. While she was photographing the second outfit, someone in the corner of her viewfinder caught her eye.

She didn’t know anyone else with that head of honey-coloured hair.

She focused her attention back to the model, and got in a couple more shots. “All right, thanks,” she said. “Third outfit, please?” That was the last one for the day. She watched the model disappear back into the van with the entourage for the outfit change and the modifications to hair and makeup.

Carmilla looked around the plaza again, wanting to make sure that she wasn’t just seeing things. At the edge of the plaza, standing with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her navy bomber jacket, was Laura Hollis. Carmilla’s breath caught. She hadn’t seen Laura since she left Silas. She approached her, though she didn’t know if she had any right to. She was the one who walked away last time, wasn’t she?

“Laura,” was all she could say.

“Carmilla,” Laura said back. Now that Carmilla was closer, she noticed that Laura had gotten a haircut. She looked great. Her tan from the summer had faded, but her skin still had a healthy glow, like the colder weather wasn’t knocking her down. On her shoulder was the same bag she was using during the election campaign.

Carmilla cleared her throat and tried not to make it look like she was giving Laura the once over. “I, uh, I like your jacket,” she said.

Laura self-consciously adjusted it. “Thanks,” she said. She nodded at the van. “What’s this for?”

“ _ Marie Claire _ ,” Carmilla replied.

“Nice.”

“How are you doing?” Carmilla asked. “Do you live here now?”

“Yeah, I guess I do. I got a job at Agence-France Presse’s bureau,” Laura told her. “It’s crazy. They called me a few weeks after the election, saying that they’ve got a job for me if I wanted it. And who was I to say no?”

“I’m happy for you,” Carmilla said. Silently, she was glad that Mattie’s networks had come through.

The van door opened.

“I’ll let you get back to your work,” Laura said. “It was nice running into you here, Carm.”

Carmilla’s heart skipped at Laura’s use of her nickname. “Wait, Laura. I should be finished in half an hour,” she said. “Do you want to get something to eat afterwards?”

To Carmilla’s surprise—and relief—Laura agreed. She sat on a bench at the edge of the plaza and watched silently as Carmilla worked with the model.

Carmilla tried not to feel self-conscious. She had done this hundreds of times. There was no use getting twitchy just because Laura was watching.

Fifteen minutes later, the shoot was over, and Carmilla waved goodbye to the model and the entourage as they drove off in the van. She tucked her camera back into her bag and made her way over to Laura. “Thanks for waiting for me,” she said.

“No problem,” Laura said. “Where do you want to go for dinner?”

“Anywhere with sandwiches,” Carmilla said.

Laura smiled. “Of course.”

They ended up at a place a couple of blocks away. They made small talk about each other’s lives. 

It turned out that Laura had moved to Vienna only a month ago, and was sent by AFP to cover events around the city. Laura mentioned that they were going to start sending her outside of Vienna during the new year.

Carmilla, on the other hand, told Laura about what had been going on with her work. Since returning to the city, she had done a couple of celebrity portrait sessions in preparation for the Viennale. And then she had the shoot for  _ Marie Claire _ . “Next week I’ll have the Viennale,” she said.

“Are you shooting red carpet?” Laura asked.

“The red carpet is for paparazzi,” Carmilla scoffed. “No, I’m shooting a couple of the exclusive galas.”

“Is Elle Sheridan going to be there?” Laura teased.

Carmilla shook her head. “If I remember correctly, she hasn’t done anything outside of Hollywood in a year,” she said.

“What a sellout,” Laura joked.

“Indeed.” It was easy talking to Laura like this. About photography, about their own careers. It was easier than having to process the last conversation they had. Carmilla didn’t know if that was still something that they should talk about, but she wasn’t going to be the first one to try. She had put herself out there first already. It didn’t pay off that time.

“I took pictures at a Nazi rally the other day,” Laura said. “The one by the mosque.”

“That must have been harrowing,” Carmilla said.

Laura nodded. “It’s okay, though,” she said. “I didn’t do anything stupid. Unlike last time.”

Carmilla laughed. She couldn’t help it. She remembered that evening clearly, but enough time had passed that she could be lighthearted about it. “You put us both in mortal danger there, cupcake.”

“And I didn’t even get to take any photos that time, so it wasn’t even worth it.”

“Hey, after that night, we didn’t give each other that much crap anymore,” Carmilla said.

“Yes, but did I really have to get a Nazi to spit in my face for you to start being nice to me?” Laura retorted.

“I wasn’t that mean to you!”

“Revisionist,” Laura deadpanned.

Carmilla laughed again. “Come on, it’s not like you weren’t giving as good as you were getting,” she said. “It’s what made it fun.” She looked into Laura’s eyes and she thought she saw  _ something  _ there, but Laura looked down at her plate of food and became unusually focused on eating it.

Once they had both finished, Laura dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Let’s go for a walk.”

* * *

For the last six weeks that Laura had been living in Vienna, she had been walking the same route back to her apartment every night after work. Tonight hadn’t felt any different. It didn’t feel like the start of something special.

She was about to walk through the same small plaza just around the corner from her apartment when she noticed that there was a photoshoot going on. It was a fairly small crew of people attending to the model and the photographer. No artificial lights, just an external flash and a couple of reflectors. When Laura heard the photographer’s voice, it was like time stopped.

That  _ had  _ to be Carmilla.

And it was Carmilla. Laura had seen Carmilla with a camera before, but she had never seen her in her element. It suited her. Carmilla’s voice, wry and droll, took on a calm, authoritative undertone. Her instructions were precise, and they remained exactly that. Not commands, not orders. She moved around the plaza with certainty, and delivered affirming comments to her model and her entourage after every few shots.

Dinner afterwards was slightly awkward, from Laura’s end, but talking about their work made it less so. It was almost like those days during the election campaign, when they would get something to eat after a shoot. It was easier to pretend that their last conversation didn’t happen. But Laura knew they couldn’t pretend forever. She intended to keep extending their time together while she mustered the courage to face the situation head on.

They were strolling around the Stephansplatz when Carmilla caught Laura staring at her. There was an amused look on her face. “Why are you looking at me like that, cupcake?”

Screw it, they were going to deal with this right now. “You know, since I moved to Vienna, I probably thought of about a million different situations where you and I would run into each other,” Laura began. “Like, what if we got coffee at the same place? Or we ended up shooting at the same event… unlikely, I know, since different genres. Or like, if we just sat next to each other on the u-bahn without even realising until we were already there -”

“Laura, you’re going to need to slow down,” Carmilla said. She had stopped walking now, and Laura had realised that she hadn’t been taking any steps either since she started talking.

“I’m sorry that I ignored you after the election, and I’m sorry that I drove you away,” Laura said. It was uncomfortable for her, putting her heart on her sleeve like this, especially in the middle of a public place, but somehow, with the way Carmilla was looking so  _ intently  _ at her, she couldn’t stop.

Carmilla’s next question came out in a voice so quiet and vulnerable, it was almost unlike how Laura knew her: “Why are you saying these things?”

“Because I haven't stopped thinking about you,” Laura blurted out. “Since you walked out my door, I keep going back to that moment and wished that I hadn’t been so hell-bent on sabotaging myself.”

“Laura -” Carmilla began.

“Let me finish,” Laura said. “You know how you told me that people have fallen in love in harder situations? I couldn’t get that out of my head, Carm. And I have all these things that I wanted to say to you, but I never thought I’d be seeing you so soon, and I’ve started now and I can’t quite back out -”

The amusement returned to Carmilla’s expression. “Then just say them,” she said.

Laura took a deep breath. “I was wrong when I tried to insist that we weren’t worth the risk, that we weren’t worth the challenges. And I’m sorry that I hurt you because of that,” she said. “The truth is I haven’t liked anyone the way I like you.  _ Ever _ .” When Laura said this, Carmilla suddenly got very interested in her shoes. She reached out to grasp Carmilla’s wrist, and tugged it lightly, urging Carmilla to look at her. “I would love to go on that date with you, if you’re still interested.”

Carmilla’s lips quirked in a smile. “Just a date?”

Laura let go of Carmilla’s wrist. Both her hands came up to hold Carmilla’s face, and she leaned in to kiss her, her heart pounding in her ears, almost afraid to get too close. She felt Carmilla’s arms wrap around her waist to pull her closer, and she closed the gap between their lips.

Their first kiss, all those weeks ago, may have overwhelmed their senses, but this kiss seemed to calm them both down. They melted into each other, kissing in the middle of the Stephansplatz, as the evening rushed around them. Laura realised how much she had been thinking about this, how much she had been  _ yearning  _ for this. Living felt a lot better when she didn’t stop herself from going after what she wanted.

When they finally pulled away from each other, Laura rested her forehead against Carmilla.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Carmilla whispered. “Just one date?”

Laura laughed. “Dozens of dates,” she said. And in her head she saw them all, including the ones when they would be waking up together the following morning.

“Dozens?” Carmilla asked again.

“Hundreds. Thousands!” Laura said, giggling as Carmilla squeezed her. And then, quietly, she said, “Hey.”

“What is it?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was inspired once again, by my inexhaustible love for romcoms. Happy holidays! I thought I'd upload this before Christmas is over so that you can have something to read as you're chilling in bed with your presents. I hope everyone had a good holiday.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been tossing up the idea of writing a Hollstein oneshot in time for the end of the year. This went through several revisions in planning before I finally settled on an AU that I really liked. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but it'll be a two-parter because it turned out to be longer than I expected! Happy holidays everyone!


End file.
